LOGIN: [TCARSON@TYRUS.NOVA] PASSWORD: [*******] LOGGING IN… COMPLETE [ACCESS PRIVATE MESSAGES] GRANTED _____ RECEPIENT: TCARSON@TYRUS.NOVA SUBJECT: Older little brother! Good day, Steveo! Sorry it took you so long to send you this email – I recently got a new datapad, and it’s been a bugger to decipher the new interface. Managed to beat the rush and get one with the swirly blue thing though, bloody good show that! So, how’ve the times been treating you? I’ve been bored off my bloody rocker down here; still reeling over you running off with that merc group! Mum’s absolutely livid, but did you expect anything else? Oh, and Dad says you should give him a ring sometime. He tries to hide it around Mum, but he’s starting to worry about you. Get on the line with him, he said he promises to tell Mum it’s a work friend! Though honestly, you could say you’re his Batarian mistress and she’d treat you more pleasantly, I think! Don’t be a stranger – Come visit if those mad dogs of yours pass us by! Lots of love (but don’t tell Mum), Benjy _____ [Forward Message] To: SteveoIsViktorious@extranet.com Subject: FW:Older little brother! I found this little gem in my inbox after I finished my work. I'm not one to peer into someone's personal life like some kind of voyeuristic specter, but when I find myself confronted with an e-mail from your 270 kilogram brother with the identity crisis that thinks he's a salarian in your mixed species family with the baffling fixation on my birth culture, I take notice. I get if you don't want to talk about any of that, but your mother sounds a lot like mine. You holding up okay? -T [SEND MESSAGE] _____ To: TCARSON@TYRUS.NOVA Subject: RE: FW: Older little brother! [i]Aw man,[/i] he got the one with the [i]swirly blue thing?![/i] I wanted of those things so bad! I [i]knew[/i] I should've waited for the newer model to come out... And for the record, Benjy has slimmed down to 165 kilograms in anticipation for swimsuit season, thank you very much. Haha, mum... now there's a military woman if ever I saw one. She didn't take so kindly to me dropping everything and running away with the metaphorical space circus, especially not with my service record. And by that, what I actually mean is that she disowned me and swore a vendetta. You know, that old song and dance. You can probably imagine how supportive she was when I resigned from STG, right? But hey, don't sweat it, I'll be fine. I don't exactly blame her, or anything: I'd be pretty irritable too, if my 'squishier' son came home with two gnarly scars where his face used to be. More-so if he was self-destructive enough to toss himself back into the fire again. I mean, wouldn't you worry too if your son ran off with a bunch of clowns like Nova? Haha! - Steveo [SEND MESSAGE] _____ To: SteveoIsViktorious@extranet.com Subject: RE:RE:FW:Older little brother! As a technician, I have it on good authority that swirly blue things are the stamp of quality. Hanhe-Kadar good. Oh, and Benjy (still a fucking odd name for a krogan) has slimmed down, has he? Tell him he should pose for calenders. I'm sure somebody would buy it. Maybe. My mother was quite the opposite, she was probably counting the days until I resigned from the service, only she didn't like what came back. She kind of has had a thing against the Alliance since my father died and I had a run in with batarian slavers on Mindoir. But I get where your mother's coming from; it's been a long-standing family tradition in the Carson clan to have every generation of the family do a stint in the military. It's part of the reason I joined, amongst a few others. I had to get off Terra Nova for a while to figure my shit out, even if I had a pretty good gig going. Shit's rough, Steveo. I can relate. I know it's kind of unspoken policy around here not to ask questions about what we did before, but why did you leave STG? Surely they were giving you enough coffee makers to assassinate. Been meaning to say, I saw more than a few turian women checking out that meat grinder you call a face on more than one shore leave. I think they dig the scars, for some reason. I think it just makes you look like a badass, personally. Any kid of mine who ran off to join a bunch of wankers calling themselves mercenaries, I'm pretty sure I'd assume it was an elaborate ruse or a way of acting out, or at the very least a very counter-productive form of suicide which would prompt me to check his shit for a will. Which reminds me, I haven't updated mine since the marines. Opps. -T [SEND MESSAGE] _____ To: TCARSON@TYRUS.NOVA Subject: RE: RE: RE: FW: Older little brother! We've suggested it a few times, but we says he's morally against being "eye-candy." Krogans, right? They're so sensitive. My mum's fond of her familial conscription, alright. Whenever I got shore leave and I went home to visit, though, she always gave off the vague air that she sort of... wanted me to die in the field, you know? I think the knowledge that I'm the one child she's definitely going to outlive grates on her, sometimes. And it can't help that my dad'll soon follow. She'd probably cope better if I went in an airstrike, or with a bullet. Quick, relatively painless. Better than watching me grow old. And the bonus is, she likes to think, I'd be dying for something worthwhile. Being in a mercenary group, though... that really winds her up. You might say she finds it "morally dubious." You might also say she's waiting to catch me so she can rip my limbs off like I'm a spider in the bath. A screamy, wriggly spider. The last words she said to me were "You're not a Turian, you'll get yourself killed." Haven't seen her in a year, since. As for STG... that was just a mess, all around. Believe it or not, at one point the council were inept enough to offer me a spectre role, based on my espionage work in the STG. Problem was, I botched a really important assignment, and in the process I ended up getting a specter killed. It was meant to be simple, we were just taking readings from Tuchanka's water supplies to make sure the genophage was still in effect... And I guess I didn't cover our tracks well enough, because a trio of Krogans wandering the desert ended up finding us and pinning us down. We told them we were unarmed- which was a dirty fucking lie, I'll admit- but they still started opening fire on us. We managed to kill two, but the third went into a blood-rage. Bastard tracked me across the desert for three days. I couldn't stop to rest without him getting a few shots off. Needless to say, my second scar is a fond reminder of how quickly an assignment can hit the fan. I called for an evac after trapping the bugger between a biotic rock and a hard place, but it goes without saying that I didn't make the cut for spectrehood. After that, I suppose I didn't feel like I was worthy of working for STG anymore. They were the best of the best, and me? I blew it. Also, they had an unsettling amount of coffee machines in the staff lounge and it made me very nervous. On a lighter note, Turian girls, huh? I hear they do the weird stuff on the first date, call me 'Commander' and count me [i]in.[/i] - Steveo [SEND MESSAGE] _____ To: SteveoIsViktorious@extranet.com Subject: Shit. Yeah, I've been hearing ever since the genophage they've been a bunch of drama queens. For a race that talks about their balls a lot, they sure are sensitive about them. I get the distinct impression you haven't really told many people about how... severe your mother is. That's rough, in a lot of ways. Regardless of her reasons, she should have known what she was getting into when she adopted a salarian. You guys live a third of what humans live, let alone the thousand years asari get. I thought most asari came to terms with the fact that they outlive more or less anyone who isn't blue with tentacles on their head or carrying around a nutrient sustaining hump and redundant organs. For what it's worth, I'm glad you aren't dead, Steveo, and I aim to try to make sure that you don't run afoul of an errand airstrike or a stray bullet. Nova's been unbelievably lucky so far, considering; I'd rather not tempt fate and get careless about it. And fuck, she said that? Your mother has issues, and maybe just a bit of racism lurking in her smug veins. What does your brother do, given he's a krogan? He can't exactly enlist in any military, given the krogan don't have one, and your mother seems to really push that kind of shit on you guys. If you told me I was going to be a merc scrapping the most morally questionable jobs off the bottom of the galaxy when I was in the Alliance, I probably would have punched you hard enough to loosen a few teeth and told you to fuck off, but life has a way of putting you down paths you never expected. In a way, I almost prefer this, going from system to system, job to job, with no rules or regulations to hold me back and some like-minded individuals. I know I'm not close to people, but... I'm trying. I don't choose to be so distant to people, and cold at times. It's just the way I am. It's hard, but fuck it. You deal with what you got. You can't blame yourself for when shit goes South, Steveo, although I have a hard time imagining you being considered for a Spectre commission. You were behind enemy lines with no support and just the two of you. Krogan are tough bastards and are pound for pound probably the most brutal fighters in the galaxy, even a Spectre is going to have a hard time in those conditions. The fact you came back alive speaks volumes to your skill and your training. Most people would have rolled over and died, or lost their shit. You didn't. It might not feel like a victory, but you fucking earned it. Most people never know what it means to fight for your life, where the smallest slip up will cost you everything. You should be proud of yourself. I can understand not wanting to keep with the military life after something like that, although I think your reasons are a bit harsh on yourself. After Mindoir, I got moved to support detachments, fixing shit and being kept away from potential conflicts. I felt like I was being wasted, like the Alliance didn't want me like I was some broken doll or some shit. You can only be shafted from one system to the next, shoved in the guts of some machine, and given pats on the back saying what a great job you're doing before you just get fed up with it. I was trained to fight, and every day, week, month I was away from the survivors from my regiment, I fucking hated myself for not being there with them, for being too weak to keep on the front lines. It wasn't my choice; doctor's orders. You wear your scars on your face, mine rake my soul. I'm not well, but I'm trying. Nova's something of a second chance, a redemption for myself. It's also a family to replace the one I lost. This shit's getting heavy. I usually don't like talking about it. Yeah, turian girls are headstrong. Apparently, they have a meritocracy for sex positions, and that shit gets competitive. -T [SEND MESSAGE] _____ To: TCARSON@TYRUS.NOVA Subject: RE: Shit I tend not to talk about her, no. Hardly seems worth it, Nova’s been a good chance to get a new start, for all of us it seems. And you’d think so, wouldn’t you? From what I understand, part of the reason her and Dad adopted me was because at least that way they’d feel semi-normal. Dad was middle aged by then, and I’m short-lived, I suppose it all made sense in her head: Our family would play out like any other, sans her role. I hear that’s common for Asari, though. They tend to forget about how fast time passes when you’re likely to live for a millennium. But I guess she’s reached her midlife crisis at this point, except she’s worrying about outliving us instead of the other way around. Aw, you’re glad I’m not dead? Careful Tanya, keep this up and I might start thinking we’re buddies or something! (I am working on BFF gun straps as we speak.) And oh, Benjy? He was signed up with a paramilitary group back on Tuchanka a little while ago, when he started getting itchy plates, so to speak. It was nothing official, I don’t think: Just a couple organised guns Clan Urdnot was using to keep the Pyjaks and the Jurdon at bay. He didn’t really fit in, though: Big, red and angry he may be, but shouting “You bloody blighters!” at incoming enemies left something to be desired by his comrades. He didn’t much like the whole “no showers” thing much, either. He quit after a year or two. Mum didn’t mind that much, though, he’s got the next nine hundred years to find himself a stint in the armed services: In the meantime, I think he’s working as an accountant. I hope he is, anyway. Can you imagine that big lug, sat in a cubicle? Little cup of tea next to his computer as he pokes the keys with his massive Krogan fingers? Makes a man wanna weep with laughter. As for blaming myself? I guess I never mean to. I suppose it’s something that, on the surface, I know is irrational, but that doesn’t stop it hitting me every time I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, or a coffee pot (those traitorous fiends.) It’s that unmoving gut instinct that some bastard is to blame for it. And I guess the last man standing wins the draw, right? I just couldn’t go back to STG like nothing had happened. I knew a hundred other Salarians that would’ve handled the operation better than I did: You know the types, poison darts up their sleeves, smoke grenades in their boots. The sort of guys that- when you passed them in the corridors- would tell you where a Krogan’s pressure point was (“you know, just for future reference”), and outline exactly where you’d gone wrong. And I saw them every day. They were just trying to help, I know: But I guess after a good couple dozen of people tell you how you could’ve avoided screwing up, you start kicking yourself. I took a month’s personal time, and when I came back I couldn’t even shoot straight. My hands shook, I was sweating too much. When I used my biotics, I couldn’t control whether I was putting too much or too little pressure onto something. Resignation just… seemed like the right option, after that. What kind of special tasks group operative can’t shoot straight? I was too ashamed to even head back to C-Sec, I ended up working as some small-fish vigilante. But you’re right, Nova’s a new opportunity! I try not to linger too much on the past. Besides, scars are fashionable, right? Mottled is the new sexy, that’s what I say. (It hasn’t caught on yet, but damn it, it will.) There’s no way I’ll ever forget what happened- I mean, not unless you’ve got the number of a damned good plastic surgeon- but something tells me being slightly unhinged and repressing violent memories is an important part of your résumé if you want to join Nova Squad, right? And it is getting pretty weighty, isn’t it? God… you don’t… you don’t think we’ve got feelings, do you? Like… like real people? Yikes. Jokes aside though, Tanya, it’s been nice to get some of this off of my chest (although if you ever tell anybody else then I’m opening all of the airlocks.) And hey, if you ever want to talk some more, drop by any time, alright? Just remember to knock first. … who am I kidding there’s no need to knock. And Hell, [i]competitive[/i] you say? It’s settled. Next shore leave we get, you’re my wingman. Wingwoman. … you’re my wingwing. - Steveo [SEND MESSAGE] To: SteveoIsViktorious@extranet.com Subject: RE:RE:Shit. In a way, I can kind of understand where she's coming from... it's hard to know you're going to outlive your whole family, and I guess timing it right could mean she'd have enough time to move on. It's still a weird concept for me, your diverse family. Humans have only been on the galactic stage for a couple decades, so it's still strange for a lot of us to be walking around with aliens, let alone dating them. Not to speak off of family, but your mom does not seem to be the sort to have planned a damn thing in her life. I mean, how the hell do you relate to someone who lives on average for 40 years when that seems like a drop in the bucket for an asari? Maybe you just changed to quickly, too fast, for her to know how to react to it. Asari have a long time to get used to their children, as it takes them a long time to mature, but a salarian? I mean, food for thought. I just hope she learns to get the fuck over herself before its too late. Shit, this is sounding fatalistic. You're young and full of piss and vinegar, you amphibian asshole. You are the poster child of youthful excess. That's why I'm glad you're around, everyone else (except for Kygg, but he scares the shit out of me) makes Tyrus seem like a fucking crypt, or a funeral or something. Seriously, when I'm the one noticing people are being a munch of reclusive, brooding assholes, you know something's gone horribly wrong. And shit, I can't imagine a krogan doing a desk job. Aren't they obligated to kill something at least once a week? Filling tax returns kind of goes against that whole "We nuked our entire planet and are slowly dying off" thing they have going for them. I guess there's always one odd ball in the gene pool. But shit, how DO krogan type? They've got sausage fingers, and I haven't seen a software firm cater to their needs yet. We have ourselves a mystery. And yeah, I know what it's like to know when it's time to move on. Sometimes, the things we love kind of turn sour, and the cause you fought so hard for doesn't seem like it matters much when enough shit hits the fan. But sometimes, as much as you need someone to blame for it, there isn't always someone to blame. Shit happens, you take it as you go the best you can. If it helps, I think you made the right call. This whole mercenary thing seems to suit you. More freedom, less bullshit... okay, different bullshit, but you know what I mean. At least the number of idiots is more manageable. But you got that right; we're just an expensive floating crazy house with no doctors and the medication comes out of a bottle with the word "proof" on it. Speaking of which, I think we're due for a glass or two. Meet up in the lounge? I feel like forgetting a lot of shit tonight, and the fact that I'm disturbingly okay with talking about personal shit now. I think no small amount of vodka can help with this. But don't worry; your secret is safe with me. After all, information loses its value when everyone fucking knows it. Cue evil laughter, thunder. But seriously, same goes to you. If you ever need to shoot the shit, you know where to find me, usually surrounded by thousands of dollars worth of expensive, fragile crap that nobody else can figure out how it works. Such is my calling in life. Next shore leave, we'll set up an interview for viable candidates for you. After all, gotta keep those bitches in line. Turians like order, don't they? -T [SEND MESSAGE] ______ To: TCARSON@TYRUS.NOVA Subject: RE:RE:RE: Shit You know, I take solace in the fact that despite everything, being in STG got me a really neat gun. Can you imagine me without my scorpion? It’d be like an actual scorpion without its tail. I’m so glad they let me keep it. Well, I’m glad they didn’t search me when I was leaving, anyway. Well, not thoroughly enough, at any rate. And thank God, I thought you’d never ask! Rendezvous in the lounge in ten? The vodka’s on you, and I’ll go grab my bottle of “emergency bourbon.” Or was it “special occasion bourbon”? Maybe it was “birthday bourbon…” … I’ll find some bourbon. And whilst we’re drinking away painful memories, I don’t see why we can’t drunk-dial Benjy ask him how he does his job, to wrap it all up with a neat little bow. Don’t invite the others, though, we can’t afford to share: I want to wake up tomorrow thinking my name is William and that I’m a salesman from Earth. See you there! (And hopefully we won’t see much more than blurs and darkness after that.) - Steveo [SEND MESSAGE]